Meant for Her by Amy Gamet Page A

like he was in high school, all hormones and raging lust. He might die if he couldn’t get close to her, couldn’t rub her smooth skin and feel her body pressed against him.
    Her breasts pushed at his bare chest, separated from him only by the light material, and his hand reach up in an intimate caress, making her moan.  Her head fell back and he grabbed the hem of her shirt, lifting it upward.
    Julie jumped back, recoiling from his hands. “I don’t want to do this.”
    Hank’s stare bored into her own in the dark room. “Liar,” he said thickly. “You want to as much as I do.”
    Her chin lifted in denial and she opened her mouth to speak.
    He didn’t want to hear it. He was tired, he was aggravated, and he was bordering on crazy. He sank down on his makeshift bed before she could pretend she wasn’t on fire, just like he was. “Goodnight, Julie.”
    She stood shock still for a moment before finishing her walk to the high poster bed, and scurried under the covers. “Goodnight.”
    The carpeted floor was rigid beneath Hank’s frustrated form, and he punched the pillow in an attempt to get comfortable. He imagined resting his head on Julie’s soft breasts instead, and knew that sleep would be hard to come by this evening.
    “Just so you know, tomorrow’s a big deal to me and my family. I’d appreciate it if you try to be a convincing girlfriend.”
    “What does that mean, exactly?”
    “Pretend you like me, Julie. Don’t cross your arms over your chest or walk away when I speak to you. Smile at me once in a while. Dance with me at the reception and hold my hand if you can stand the thought.”
    He was about to ask if she’d heard him, when she finally replied, “Okay.”
    “Okay, what?”
    “I’ll pretend to like you.”
    “Great. Thank you. I hope the experience isn’t too painful for you.”
    “Goodnight, Hank.”
    “Goodnight, Julie.”
     ~~~
    The pungent smell of wood smoke burned Julie’s nostrils and woke her from a sound sleep. She sat up in bed to a room she didn’t recognize, completely alone and terrified. Reaching for the bedside lamp, she turned the switch and heard a click, but no light came on.
    In the distance, someone laughed maniacally, and an old red generator appeared next to the bed, lit as if by a spotlight. Her father stood before her, his lifeless eyes staring at a fixed point on the wall. In his hands, he held a severed electrical cord. “Did you check the starter?” he asked.
    Julie heard a piercing scream, but did not realize it was her own.
    The bedroom door opened, and she could see leaping flames of orange and red violently consuming the hallway beyond. Gwen appeared through the wall of fire completely unscathed, and entered the room wearing an old-fashioned nurse’s uniform.
    “Telegram,” said Gwen. “I have a telegram here for Julie McDowell.”
    “That’s me,” Julie said, but her aunt didn’t seem to hear her. “That’s me,” she said again, but to no avail.
    Next to the bed, the generator roared to life with a great shudder, and Julie pressed her hand to her frantically beating heart. She felt rich beading beneath her fingers and looked down at the bodice of a white wedding gown.
    Hank!
    She had to save Hank! She knew he was in this house, burning in the fire that had been meant for her alone. Desperate to find him, she threw back the covers on the bed and got up, standing face-to-face with a burned-out skeleton in a Navy officer’s uniform.
    The screaming wouldn’t stop this time. Flames broke through the door to the bedroom. Nurse Gwen stood next to an eye chart emblazoned with the beginning of the cipher from the safe deposit box. “Cover your left eye, please. What does this say?” she asked Julie.
    “I don’t know! I don’t know!” she wailed. The dead body in the Navy uniform grabbed at her arms, shaking her. “Get off of me! Let me go!” she wailed in horror.
    “Julie!” Shouted the corpse. “Julie! Wake up! It’s just a